Refined Gentlemen
by FlowerofAdversity
Summary: My second attempt at a Metalocalypse fan-fiction. I think this one is a bit more in character and makes far more sense than the first one. Rated M for mature language, blood, gore, sex and drunkeness.


Refined Gentlemen

Refined Gentlemen

Note: My second Metalocalypse fan fiction, hopefully better (and more metal) than the first. When Dethklok has been invited to a high-society shindig, their manager sees that many improvements before they can be accepted by that opulent, well-to-do stratum of the world. Will they become refined or is Dethklok a lost cause ?

Chapter 1—NOOOOOOOOOOOO !

Charles Ofdensen, the manager of Dethklok, felt a sense of impending doom when he read an RSVP handed to him by one of the Dethklok hooded minions.

"Ah, guitar riff ! Who's idea was this anyway ?", he screamed at the top of his lungs. Toki happened to be walking by and noticed the boss wasn't his usual self.

"What's up, boss ? Why so glums ?", he questioned, patting Charles on the back. He hoped that his kind gesture to Charles wouldn't be noticed for fear he would be labeled as possibly gay. Charles stiffly held up the RSVP directly in front of Toki's face.

"This ! This is my guitar riff problem, Toki ! If you guys want to make a good impression, _Judas Priest_, we have a lot of work to do…", Charles stated honestly.

"Sos ? It's not such a big deals. We can handles it. Whos are these peoples anyhows ?", Toki questioned, curiously.

"It's a prestigious charity organization, and apparently they need us for notoriety.", Charles said. Just then the other guys came in from breakfast and noticed the two talking.

"I heard a scream. It wasn't you was it ?", Pickles joked to Toki.

"Oh, he's such a little girls. I wouldn't be surprised if a rat frightened him. Such a babys.", Skwiskgar teased.

"I'm not a babys !", Toki pouted, crossing his arms.

"Guys, listen to me. This is really important. We've just been invited to a dinner for charity.", Charles stated, seriously.

"Hell yeah ! Free food !", Murderface exclaimed, loudly.

"Is there alcohol ?", Pickles added, with a smart-aleck smirk.

"Yes…_What does that have to do with anything_ ?! You're missing the guitar riff point, guys. The dinner is this weekend. We only have a few days to work on your etiquette. We don't want another mishap like we did with the London Philharmonic.", Charles responded with a grimace.

"That was guitar riff brutal though, all that blood…", Murderface said with a nostalgic look and a hint of a smile. It unnerved Charles that Murderface had been the only one grinning about that atrocious evening.

"So, what you are saying is we have to develop manners ? Grace ? Poise ?", Nathan asked.

"Yeah, that's pretty much the deal and I will be enacting negative reinforcements. It ain't gonna be pretty boys, but I'm afraid that is the only way we are going to get you refined by the weekend.", Charles responded, hanging his head a bit. Even with negative reinforcements it would take a miracle to turn the members of Dethklok into _gentlemen_.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !", Nathan bellowed, his thundering voice shaking Mordhaus. As he screamed, the minions had come and two hooded guards worked with one band member of their own. Charles sighed heavily and pivoted on his heel back to his office. It was going to be a hell of a long week.

Chapter 2—That's a SALAD FORK, you douche !

Ofdensen had sat the band members down for their first lesson in etiquette: table manners, table utensils and generic dos and don'ts of conversing while at dinner with affluent guests. Each band member had electrodes attached to various parts of his body. If he did something incorrectly, he would receive a piercing shock; not enough to hurt him but it would sting quite a bit. This was to teach that subject that what he did was wrong and not to make the same mistake.

"This sucks hairy balls.", Murderface murmured as he sat down and waited for instructions. The others muttered among themselves and grumbled. This had to be the dumbest lecture and lesson they had ever participated in. Then he let them demonstrate what they had learned.

"I eat my steak with _this_ fork.", Nathan said, picking up a rather tiny utensil.

"That's a SALAD FORK, you douche !", Pickles laughed, and both of them were shocked.

"What have we learned ?", Ofdensen asked as the two nursed their fragile egos.

"A salad fork is used for eating salads.", Nathan said, sulking, and lowering his head, much like a scolded toddler would after being reproved for bad behavior.

"Not to call someone a douche even though I believe it to be true.", Pickles stated, rubbing his arm were a hair had been singed off.

"Oh, Gods…That is going to leave a marks, isn't it, Pickles ?", Skwisgaar whispered. Pickles catapulted a pea right into his face, but Toki ate it in midair.

"Impressive catch.", Murderface added, awe-struck.

"Jesus guitar riff Christ…I swear you guys are going to be the death of me. Can we go through this whole thing again from the top and this time, pay attention.", Ofdensen nearly pleaded. The band finished applauding Toki's secret talent.

"Fines. We'll listens to yous. But on one conditions.", Toki stated, with an effervescent grin.

"Oh guitar riff. What is it ?", Ofdensen asked, fearing for the worst.

"If we behaves ourselves and do everything you say can we all goes to the amusement parks ?", Toki asked, gleefully.

"Oh come on, what are ya, a pussy ?", Murderface groaned.

"Ja, he is but…let's hear him out.", Skwisgaar stated, and Nathan simply glared at him angrily.

"Oks. This place is called Murderberry Farms. They gots murder mysterys plays and the world's tallest stand up rollercoasters. I gots to rides it ! If we're good, you have to let me !", Toki said, banging his fists on the table like a toddler.

"I heard about Murderberry Farms…It's supposed to be hideously brutal. Besides, riding the "Tormentor" sounds metal.", Nathan added.

"Ja, and like maybe we can earn extra moneys if we perform a concert there.", Skwissgar noted.

"Just make sure you don't cause needless destruction when we get there or your ass is grass, gentlemen.", Charles warned. The men moaned, knowing they were about to _hate_ their evening out with charity but for the good of their social image, they would be obedient corporate dogs…for once.

Chapter 3—Open Your Heart and Your Wallet

Dethklok loathed socializing with upper-crust individuals let alone playing "grandpa's instruments". They had to do both during this evening but they weren't about to groan or moan about it now. They had begun singing their newest song, "Open Your Heart and Your Wallet", and despite the fact that it was a bit of a controversial song with some rather witty double entendres, they were able to get away with it and hadn't caused any trouble, yet.

Charles dabbed his fevered brow with a handkerchief. A bit upset, Charles stomped up to the band and glowered at them.

"Guys, you're playing with fire. Don't guitar riff with me, capice ?", Ofdensen threatened.

"Wowie, Charles…Never seen you so pissed.", Toki whispered in awe to him.

"I'm only mildly so, Toki. If the rest of this night goes well, Murderberry's in the bag. Remember that.", Charles added before turning off and storming into the distance to keep an eye on them.

"You know something Skwisgarr ?", Murderface whispered to Dethklok's resident Lothario.

"Ja, what is it ?", he questioned, savoring some champagne and indulging himself with triple-decker chocolate silk cake.

"These rich bitches ain't so bad. I could get used to looking at all this ass…", Murderface stated, with a lecherous glare at one of the women. He slapped a young redhead on the rump and she laughed heartily.

"You ain't kiddin'.", Pickles agreed. Apparently, the five men had been making time with the young "fillies" and were having the time of their lives. Pickles was starting to get a little drunk on the wine that had been freely flowing from the tables and kindly excused himself to his hotel room to go lie down. There were some rather hot looking European chicks that escorted him out and luckily, Charles didn't see any of that happen or he would've had a meltdown.

Chapter 4—Awful Stench of Success

When Chris awoke, he was hoping to find the guys still asleep or watching TV. The lot of them had a girl on either arm and the whole room reeked of alcohol and vomit. Fortunately, no vomit was anywhere to be seen other than the bathroom and it nearly made Chris want to regurgitate himself. He felt his ire building within the core of his being and clenched his fists. He wanted desperately to bawl them _all _out for disobeying his direct orders. But, they had gotten into no trouble that evening at all whatsoever, or killed anyone indirectly from some freak accident. He grumbled and sighed, shaking his head left to right. He would let them get by with this small indignity in hopes that no one in the charity organization had caught the boys' lewd and lascivious behavior.

When the band first arrived at Murderberry Farms, Toki was squealing, prancing about on his tip-toes in a near-girlish fashion. Skwissgar tried not to laugh at him and the others pretended not to know him or admit being associated with him. Murderface, having had enough of Toki's cavorting, punched him in the arm, _hard_.

"OW ! You bastards ! What did you do that fors ?", he questioned, his lower lip quivering, his eyes doleful like a basset puppy with no home.

"I _felt _like it, and you were being mortifying.", William admitted. Toki, still nursing the bruise on his arm seethed a bit but then overcame his pain when his eyes beheld the gargantuan "Tormentor".

"Woah, kick ass.", Pickles stated in awe.

"Indeeds.", Skwissgar concurred. The guys were bewildered by the mere size of the track, and it looked incredibly dangerous. There were spikes coming out of the track, and it had a record count of about 60 loops; more than any other rollercoaster known to mankind. The line to wait extended halfway out of the park, however.

"Toki, hate to burst your bubble, but look at that f'in line, man.", Pickles said, secretly having mirth in making Toki upset.

"Oh mans…", Toki said, sadly, hanging his head.

"Well, I wouldn't worry too much about it. We've got like, a whole day to screw around. We're pairing up. Uh, I'll be going with Pickles.", Nathan said.

"Dibs on Murderface.", Skwissgar stated with a sarcastic chuckle.

"Guess I'm to goes with you, Charles.", Toki said, starting to brighten up a bit. Ofdensen exhaled in frustration as Toki led him to the bumper cars. Charles _loathed_ bumper cars, but since he had no other choice but to ride them, he did so without complaining.

_Meanwhile…_

"How much longer are we goings to have to stand here ? My boots are killings me.", Skwissgar grumbled.

"Shut up…It'll be about another hour before we get on. We've ridden every other brutal ride here, save those lame-ass 'kiddie' rides, and I can see Toki's going nuts.", Murderface observed.

"Luckys him. You know it's weird but that doesn't much look like what I am accustomed to. Those bumper cars are metal, you knows ? I means look at them ! Spikes everywhere, they're flaming exhaust pipes, people bleeding from getting run over by Toki...", Skwisgaar responded. Their attention wasn't distracted from the fact they were reaching their destination. Something akin to fear ran through Skwisgaar's veins but he dared not to speak of it, lest William have a less-than-complimentary opinion of him.

Nathan and Pickles had to stop at some nearby trashcans to vomit after riding the Black Widow for the 40th time. They had ridden other roller coasters in the park but hadn't even come close to the "Tormentor".

"Dude, I didn't know your stomach was that…blech…sensitive.", Pickles said, between regurgitation. His bowels had decided to finally settle down after all that activity.

"Neither did I, but…look…It's getting late and we'd better…", Nathan said before he vomited again.

"Maybe we'd both take it easy, then eh ?", Pickles said, gathering up his strength and starting to walk toward the Tormentor with a cocky, wiseacre grin.

"No you guitar riff don't asshole !", Nathan yelled, pushing him aside and getting in front of him. That little twit wasn't about to get his place in front of him. Not if he had anything to say about it.

All the while, Toki was causing needless bloodshed in the Murdercars.

"Die ! Die ! Die ! All of yous ! Bow before my prowess, weaklings !", Toki cackled as he ran over another child, crushing his bones and causing blood to spatter all over the side rails. The operator, too frightened to even move, was stunned and petrified. He shook as he tried to dial 911 for the police to come.

"Oh…guitar riff me.", Ofdensen as he began to hear sirens in the background. He stopped the bumper car and unfastened his seatbelt, roughly taking Toki by the arm and ushering him over the piles of bodies, decapitated or otherwise. The sight of it was enough to make him ill and the smell was even worse, but he had no time to explain to Toki what was going on. Now his only trouble was to get the rest of Dethklok out of Murderberry before the cops found them.

Chapter 4—Cheese it, the FUZZ !

"Hey, let go, Chuck ! You're brusings my arms.", Toki whined as he snapped out of his murderous rage.

"What happened back there ?", Charles asked, but then started hearing sirens.

"I…sorta blacked outs.", Toki responded, not recalling what had happened. Apparently when he was rather competitive in winning games, the eviler, baser, more primal side of him emerged.

"Guitar riff ! We can't think about that now…Come on, let's procure the rest of the band and get the hell out of this guitar riffhole.", Charles said as he waited for the last train from the Tormentor to release its passengers. Toki was a bit angered he didn't get to ride it, but Charles promised him he would have his chance. It was either haul ass or get keelhauled in jail.

Luckily for Dethklok, they had eluded the po-po and escaped unharmed. Sadly, however, they had missed the chance to raise substantial amounts of cash by playing at Murderberry Farms.

"We gots to go back there…I wanna rides the Tormenter so bads !", Toki whined.

"Would you please shut him up for Chrissakes ?!", Pickles complained, holding the sides of his head from a splitting headache.

"All of you, shut up ! One day we will return but for now we have to lay low. No more parties no more 'social events'…and Chris, scratch that 'Convalescent Center Visit' off our record for the moment.", Nathan stated, firmly. Chris sighed…back to abnormal, once again.

Epilogue 

As promised, Toki finally _did_ have his chance to ride the Tormentor, but not without vomiting half his guts out after riding it so repeatedly. He had photos to commemorate the occasion as well as a t-shirt that read,

"I rode the Tormentor…_AND LIVED_".

The second time at Murderberry had been more entertaining than the last. There had been a 'creep-house' installed since the so-called legend of Toki's death car slaughter had gotten out. The police weren't hanging around the place so thickly and had stopped looking for the man responsible for so many people murdered.

Despite his best efforts, Chris hadn't made the band any more or less "refined" than they already were. They were still inept and asinine; nihilists to the core of their being and no amount of negative or positive reinforcements would change that. Still, the Tribunal was looking to have them destroyed so the Metalocalypse would never occur. Even so, they were fools in doing so since the music could never be stopped. The music was destruction, and in it, death followed. One day, the world would be lain siege by death metal and its darkness and not even the Tribunal could fight that.

It was simply the way of the world, and the negativity that had swallowed it whole.

At least Dethklok could know, such metal elements made for stellar albums and killer sales.

Terminado


End file.
